Monday Evening

I should be working right now. I'm not, and I suppose really don't have to be — but I can't help but feel as though I ought to be. I can't just sit here, comfortably, and do nothing without this sense of unease that something isn't getting done.

That's the way it is when you enjoy your work, I suppose. It expands to fill a vacuum. And when you're self-employed, it becomes difficult to seperate work from home from whatever else. I have to make an effort to make the time for whatever else.

Much as I enjoy my work, though, it can still wear me down. I need the time away — that's what "now" is supposed to be. But that desk in the next room, the computer on that desk, it's all still there, and were I to wander over to the office, I could easily lose an hour or two with some small task I-just-want-to-get-this-done, and end up falling into bed at 3:00 AM.